


This Love

by genevievedarcygranger



Series: Hotch x Reader / Hotch x You [31]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Dirty Talk, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gratuitous Smut, Humor, M/M, One Shot, POV Second Person, Power Imbalance, Reader-Insert, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Self-Insert, Shameless Smut, Short One Shot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29453202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger
Summary: Hotch brings work into the bedroom, and you put him to work another way.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader, Aaron Hotchner/You
Series: Hotch x Reader / Hotch x You [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862236
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	This Love

You would never get used to living with Hotch.

Obviously, there was the big difference of having a nine-year-old in the house. Jack was a sweet kid, but you really could not wait for the teen years where he’d sleep until noon. Right now, he was always bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, rising with the sun, climbing into your bed, so energetic. You couldn’t remember ever being like that before coffee, but now you’d find yourself sitting on the couch on Saturday mornings with a bowl of cereal, watching cartoons together. It was cute.

Then there was the more subtle difference to get used to. Hotch wasn’t the kind of guy to live like a bachelor or a slob. He was a total neat freak. In fact, he picked up your clothes and put them in the hamper even when they weren’t dirty. He didn’t leave the toilet seat down, but he did occasionally leave hair in the sink after shaving, which he got embarrassed over. He bought whole milk instead of the two percent, which drove you nuts. And you were classically conditioned like one of Pavlov’s dogs to hate the sound of his phone ringing.

But you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not when it meant that some days you woke up with his arms around you. Not when it meant that you could see your stern boss literally melt away into Aaron, devoted push-over father who read to Jack every night he could and always caved and ordered pizza for dinner. Not when you had Jack, who adored you because you could make better oatmeal than Hotch for breakfast and never burnt the cookies, even though they were the break-n-bake kind instead of homemade.

If there was one thing about this new arrangement that you hoped you would never get used to, it was the sight of Aaron Hotchner in his sleep clothes, propped up in your bed. This was how you fell in love with him after all, your boss of all people, which is something you never thought you’d be stupid enough to do. All it took was a few times of sharing a room and getting to see him cozy up in his double bed to decide that this intelligent, brave man was someone who was soft and worth loving. And you have ever since.

So tonight, after you were the one to put Jack to bed because he decided he wanted you to read to him just like his dad does, when you went into the bedroom and found him in the bed, you were reminded of this love. It nearly bowled you over. And Hotch didn’t even notice.

He was sitting half underneath the covers with his laptop balanced on his legs. On your half of the bed, he had a few papers spread out. At one point, he must have been reclining back against the pillows because he had them stacked up behind his back, but he had given up on that the more he concentrated and leaned forward instead. Even though he was wearing his reading glasses, there was that little line between his eyebrows. His hair was soft and messy, clearly from where he’d frustratedly ran his fingers through it. In short, he was so…handsome. And you were just a lovestruck little fool as always.

“I hope you didn’t bring work into our bed,” you spoke, breaking him from his concentration.

His startled eyes flew up to yours and his hands reflexively grabbed the laptop. “Um. Not exactly.” He glanced ruefully between you and the laptop screen again. “One of my old lawyer friends asked me to look at this case.”

“Oh?” You leaned against the doorframe and crossed your arms over your chest. “You’re busting out the J.D. again?”

Already staring at the screen again, he only hummed, “Mhm.”

Shaking your head, you start to strip off your clothes as you wander toward the dresser for your pajamas. “You know, I know that you need to do this job, but if you ever wanted to settle down one day, just blow the dust off of the J.D. and pick it up again. Or there’s always professorship. The academy or maybe some other university will want you. Who wouldn’t?” As you started to dress, you found yourself thinking out loud, “Maybe someday when it becomes too much… but it’s always been too much. I don’t know. Ignore me.”

When you turned around, Hotch looked unphased as if he never heard you speak. You would have been annoyed, but since you weren’t sure if you were ready to have that conversation about settling and retirement yet, you let it go. Rather, you took a good look at him and had an idea that you couldn’t let go instead. Briskly, you climbed into the bed.

Your movement jostled the mattress, and again Hotch was pulled from his train of thought. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he grabbed the papers on your side of the bed. “I should put these away.”

“Leave it, my love,” you told him as you bypassed slipping under the covers to crawl behind him instead. Hotch twisted around, confused, and watched as you wedged yourself between the fluffy pillows and his body until your legs were on either side of him. You started your explanation by wrapping your arms around his middle and leaning the side of your face between his shoulder blades. “Go ahead. Keep working.”

Hotch was a little tense under your touch. He couldn’t help but remember when Haley would get irritated at him for bringing work home, for letting work rule over him and come between himself and his family. He felt like he was doing something wrong and was afraid to misstep. “Don’t, don’t you want to go to bed?”

“I’m not tired yet.” You lifted your head long enough to press a kiss to the back of his neck before snuggling against him again. “You can keep working so long as I get to hold you.”

Flushed with new warmth and his stomach twisting pleasantly under your attention, Hotch patted his hand over yours that were laved over his abdomen. “Oh,” he said so softly that it must have been to himself. “Okay.” He took a deep breath, adjusted his glasses on his nose, and dived back into the Latin phrasing again. It was like donning an old broken-in leather jacket that still fit, that still had the same smell of his first aftershave.

While Hotch read and reviewed and worked and occasionally picked up his pencil to scratch some notes, you cuddled against him. Slowly, you started to enact your plan. First, you let your hands leisurely wander over his body. They slipped down his stomach to his lap where you squeezed the tops of his thighs over his boxers. Then they journeyed back up again to his chest where you palmed his pectoral muscles over his thin white T-shirt.

Though Hotch didn’t say a word to you, you could feel his body react to your touch even while his mind was busy. His heartbeat accelerated. His nipples peaked. His breathing got heavier. Lifting your head, you casually blew across the back of his neck and you felt him shift, his legs pressing closer together unconsciously. You brought your hand back down to his lap and grabbed his thigh again, massaging it gently. The other hand was still left on his chest, not idle either. You craned your neck up until you could nuzzle your nose against the shell of his ear, and only then did Hotch stop working.

“What,” he sounded dazed as he caught up to the reactions of his body, “What are you doing? I’m, I’m working.”

“I know,” you murmured to him, voice low as a buzz right in his good ear. “You look so sexy. Keep going.”

Over his shoulder, you watched him grasp at his pencil again, blindly following your instructions. He gave a valiant effort, but as your hand dropped between his thighs to check how hard he was, you felt more than heard his sharp intake of breath. “I, I can’t,” he stuttered, leaning some of his weight back against your chest.

“You don’t want to work?” You tease, snagging your teeth on his earlobe and nibbling a bit.

He shivered and then whined, “No, I want you.” He made as if to turn around, but you locked your arms around his waist tighter until he grunted and squeezed him between your thighs to keep him in place.

“Sh, sh,” you hushed him. “You’ve got me, my love. Just stay like this for me and I’ll take care of you.” Now the hand you had over his chest shamelessly plucked at his nipples through his shirt. “Would you like that?”

Whimpering at the stimulation, Hotch nodded before he verbally answered you, “Yes.”

Finally, you groped for his cock, your fingers slipping inside of his boxers to grasp it firmly. “Good boy.”

He gasped and his cock jumped in your hand. And then he was peeling his shirt off for you, so eager for whatever you had in store. His hands trembled as he placed the laptop aside as well. Without his shirt in the way, you were able to play with his chest more aggressively, scraping your nails over his skin. He was much warmer like this, too, his skin soft and his hair thick.

You started to jerk him off while you played with him, and it was a little difficult to concentrate with the different hand motions. Jerking his cock and rubbing his nipples was a little bit like rubbing your belly in circles while patting the top of your head. It meant that you ended up rubbing your thumb against the head of his cock every so often, pushing it down and staving off his orgasm. You didn’t mean to edge him, but you were.

In your arms, Hotch was a writhing mess. He whimpered and whined and begged and chanted and pleaded and panted. Hotch alternated between pushing his cock into your hand and pressing himself further back into your embrace. His hands grasped your forearms for dear life, his laptop and paperwork thoroughly abandoned on your side of the bed. His legs kicked the covers down until he was exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. A fine sweat started to dot his forehead and shine on his chest. All in all, he was a mess, but he was your mess to play with as you please.

Throwing his head back until it was pillowed on your shoulder, Hotch moaned shamelessly. “Oh, baby, please, please.” With his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth dropped open wide to moan again. “Please let me come.”

You kissed his temple tenderly, so at odd with the lewd motions of your hands. “You wanna come? You’re gonna come like this?”

“Mhm,” he hummed between tightly pressed lips now, ultra aware of the noise he was making. The sound was high-pitched and desperate, and music to your ears.

“If you come like this, you’ll never be able to think of working again if this is how you get rewarded. When you sit in your office, you’ll think of my hand on your cock, because this cock belongs to me. Would you like that, my love?”

Hotch nudged his forehead to the underside of your jaw, his breath coming in hot pants against your skin. You could feel the dewiness of his breath, smell the mint of the toothpaste from earlier when he brushed his teeth. He gave a broken little cry, “Please, anything for you.”

You believed him. “Look at me when you come, my love. Look at how pretty you are like this.”

With a great amount of effort, Hotch opened his eyes and looked first at you and then helplessly down at his body. He released into your hand as you milked his orgasm from his body. That same body was wracked with waves of pleasure as he crested, and then started to tremble once he was finished. He was sprawled out, completely boneless, like a marionette with snipped strings. Sleep started tugging at his eyelids almost immediately. “Thank you,” he slurred.

You kissed his sweaty hair. “You’re welcome, my love, always so polite.” Bringing your sticky hand to his face, you stuck your fingers in his mouth and watched his cheeks hollow around the digits as he sucked and tongued at his own release. “How about we make it a rule: no work in our bed, ever.”

His eyes rolled to yours, an apology in their depths. “No work in bed.”

"Only pleasure.”

And despite everything the two of you did together, Hotch blushed as he repeated your words without ever being asked. “Only pleasure.”

“There’s my good boy.”


End file.
